


Amelia and the Consulting Dectective

by KatsWorld



Category: Doctor Who (2005), Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: F/M, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Kid Amelia Pond, Kid Sherlock Holmes, Not Really Character Death, Post-Episode: s02e03 The Reichenbach Fall, Post-Reichenbach
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-16
Updated: 2019-11-15
Packaged: 2021-01-31 15:26:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21448429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KatsWorld/pseuds/KatsWorld
Summary: What happens when Amelia Pond discovers that her childhood best friend is dead? She doesn't believe it. When she realizes that some things don't quite add up she and the doctor go to the one person they can trust: John Watson.
Relationships: Amy pond & John Watson, Sherlock Holmes/Amy Pond (Doctor Who)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 11





	Amelia and the Consulting Dectective

She squeezed her eyes shut, blocking the words from her view. How could he…? How dare he… Her mind wouldn’t…couldn’t process it. What gave him the right? Didn’t he…who did he think he was anyway? She thought to herself. Sherlock Holmes, consulting detective. Her brain supplied.   
Four simple words, that was all it took to define her best friend to the world, yet it also could not be farther from the truth. Yes, he was the world’s only consulting detective but there was so much more to him. People saw him as cold and callous, they called him a sociopath but he was far from it.  
He was just a little boy, scared of the world around him, with no one to believe in him. She was just a girl, dubbed crazy and imaginative with no one to believe her. So, when they found each other they held on tight and believed together.   
\- - -  
Amelia made her way to the playground, ready to face another day of isolation. Only today, she noticed something odd. The swings that were usually occupied were deserted. All the other kids were crowded on the right side of the playground, over by the slides and monkey bars. Alone at the swing sat a boy, probably around her age. His gaze was directed to the scuffed-up patch of earth beneath his feet. Between the glares and glances the others sent his way they shared secret whispers and hushed laughter.   
Amelia realized she was about to be faced with two options. Join him or join the others. Knowing she would be forced to choose she had to decide quickly. Maybe this is it, she thought to herself, maybe this is how I can be friends with the others again! Ever since the raggedy man had visited her, the town had labeled her as having an over-active imagination or as the kids called her: crazy. She knew she wasn’t, she knew that he was real and that he would come back, he promised. But that didn’t stop the kids from teasing her and she couldn’t even rely on her two best friends for support. Rory’s family was spending the summer holiday at his grandmothers in Edinburg, and Mel’s family had gone to some place in America. Could you really do that? Treat him like you have this past week? she thought to herself.   
With her mind preoccupied Amelia missed the branch that laid before her on the ground. As she stepped forward a crack rang through the air. All eyes turned to her, including the piercing blue ones which belonged to the raven-haired boy on the swings. Green eyes locked with blue and in that moment, she knew what her decision would be. Hidden behind his curious expression was a sadness, the same sadness which had plagued her every night since the raggedy man had left. A sadness that was caused by the one thing no one should ever endure: loneliness.   
No, I can’t. she thought to herself. As she walked towards him the whispers among the others increased. She could feel their eyes glued on her with every step she took towards the swings, so she did the only thing she could, held her head up high as she made it over to the empty swing next to him and sat down.   
“They won’t like you for this.” A clear, yet quite voice broke through the silence. Amelia glanced to her left, her gaze once more locked with his.   
“What?” she asked, her brows furrowed in confusion.  
“The other kids, they don’t like me. You’ll be treated different for talking to me. You should go, before they do.” he said, as his gaze fell back onto the ground.  
For a brief moment, her guards fell, the sadness, which she only ever let herself feel at night, consumed her and she whispered out, “I already am.” Quickly, she pushed the sadness back down and placed her guards back up. “And don’t worry about the others, they’re boring. And when have you ever heard of anyone boring doing something amazing.”  
“Never.”  
“Exactly, I’m Amelia. What’s your name?” she asked, as she stretched her hand out towards him.   
“Sherlock.” he replied, grabbing her hand in his and giving two short shakes before he dropped them, and moved his down to his sides.  
“That’s an odd name.”  
“Yes, it is.”   
Silence then stretched between the two, seeming to stretch out for eternity. With the passing breeze, the swings swayed causing the chains to creak.  
Amelia tried to distract herself by picking at the red nail polish she wore. Aunt Sharon had insisted she look her best for the last day of school, but that was two weeks ago and the polish was driving her insane. She just wanted it off but it wouldn’t budge and Aunt Sharon wouldn’t give her any polish remover, believing that painted nails suited Amelia.   
“Why’d you paint your nails if you are just going to chip it off? Seems rather pointless.” Sherlock said.   
“Wasn’t my idea, my aunt made me. Now, she won’t give me anything to take it off.”  
“Oh.”  
It seemed like they were destined to be silent in one another presence, so Amelia began chipping at her polish once more.  
“I think I have something at home that will take it off.”  
“Really?”  
“Yeah I got a small lab for Christmas and have been testing the chemical composition of the different solutions around my house. I believe I took some acetone from my mother’s room, which is known for aiding in the removal of nail polish.”  
“Thank you.”  
As the two walked off to Sherlock’s house they found the spell of silence vanished once the stairs and whispers became a distant memory.  
That was the day Sherlock made his first true friend and the day Amelia became friends with a madman. Sherlock made her summer brighter and she was the light of his whole year.   
\- - -   
Amelia breathed in as she prepared herself to open her eyes. She wished, more than anything, for the words to be mistaken, to be a misprint, or a prank, anything other than the truth. Perhaps she was the crazy one, after all a weeping angle had messed with her head only the day before. She wished with all her heart that the words would change, hell she even wished that for once in her life it was really just her overactive imagination playing a cruel trick on herself.   
As she breathed out her eyes opened. The rush of light briefly blinded her which caused her to squint, but through the ordeal her vision was still able to lock in on those seven words, bolded and spread across the top of the paper. For the second time today, those seven words broke her heart and caused her head to scream. Those words shouldn’t be in that order, in any order, they didn’t belong together. It can’t be true! It just can’t…I… Her line of vision shifted down, to the photo printed next to the article. The ink on the page started to blur, confused she reached a shaky hand to the smudge. Wet. Her hands move onto her hot cheek, wet from the tears that wouldn’t stop spilling from her eyes.   
The image was clear as day. His curls, his coat, the scarf. She didn’t want it to be true but then that blasted phrase popped into her head in his voice and all it makes her want to do is scream and cry even more but also laugh because of course, even now, he would find the absolute worst time to interject. Once you remove the improbable, whatever remains, no matter how improbable, must be the truth.   
Upon the realization that her nightmare was in fact reality the room started to sway and her knees gave out. She crumpled to the ground a sobbing mess, just as the doctor returned from his venture. He called out to her, concern evident in his voice, but she didn’t hear him.  
All her head could focus on was those seven words she saw spread atop the paper: Sherlock Holmes, the Consulting Detective is Dead.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading. This is my first work, so please leave any comments you have.


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